Being Brave
by chris400ad
Summary: Everyone knows the story, Valkyrie Cain partners the infamous Skeleton Detective, they go on adventures and generally save the world and beat the bad guys. But what if that was all it was: a story? When the lines between reality and fiction are blurred beyond recognition Valkyrie is forced to make a decision which could change everything.
1. Back-alley Brawl

**AN: This story is set between Death Bringer and Kingdom of the Wicked, I've rated it M for a reason but without wanting to say too much all I can say is you've been warned. As usual I own nothing here, it's just for fun. If you have any questions feel free to drop me a message. The story is complete and I'll be updating it once a week. I hope you all like it.**

Chapter One: Back-alley Brawl

It was raining, it was always raining. Valkyrie Cain, sixteen year old sorceress, killer of Gods and all round saviour of the world, sighed. For once she wished that it would be sunny, it would make a nice change from constantly having her hair plastered to her scalp and running the risk of pneumonia just because she was on a case.

"When do we get to go home? I'm starving." Valkyrie moaned, speaking into the phone that she had held to one ear as she traipsed down the alleyway. It was quiet and empty. The sounds of the street noise were gone down here. She was alone and out of the way of prying eyes and that was the point. This wasn't exactly the kind of thing that she could do with mortals watching.

"Soon, and you should never put your stomach above a case." Skulduggery answered, his velvet voice calm, just like it always was. In the background Valkyrie could hear the sound of someone blaring a car horn, a reminder that Skulduggery was in the nice, warm Bentley. He was probably having a great time.

"Easy for you to say, you're a skeleton." Valkyrie grumbled, running a hand through her damp hair in an attempt to wipe it out of her eyes. "Remind me again why I'm doing this on my own?"

"Because, for whatever reason, Kern hates me and has asked specifically that he meets with you and only you."

"You did shoot him," Valkyrie pointed out, glancing furtively around the alley. Where the hell was he? She checked her watch. Quarter past. He should be here by now. Something didn't feel right. But Douglas Kern wasn't the kind of man who was known for being prompt. No doubt he had spent the last hour scoping out the alley, making sure that Valkyrie had indeed come alone as they had promised.

"Some people are so petty," Skulduggery said casually, she could picture him just shrugging it off – as if shooting someone was just a normal, everyday thing. Valkyrie almost chuckled despite herself. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be grand," Valkyrie assured him. Even now, for all of his humour and one-liners, Valkyrie knew that he worried about her. Not that he would ever admit it, of course. Skulduggery wasn't much of a fan of emotional conversations. He far preferred punching bad guys. "You sure Kern's information is worth all this though?"

"It could be vital in solving a double murder."

"And I could be in bed," Valkyrie countered, somewhat sullenly. She wasn't really sulking about not being able to sleep. She was used to that. No, what was annoying Valkyrie was that if their roles were reversed then Skulduggery wouldn't even be slightest bit wet, a fact he enjoyed reminding her of when she complained about being stuck in the rain.

"We all have to make sacrifices, Valkyrie."

"You don't, you're in the Bentley."

"Yes, but I'm having to listen to you complain, which I might add is ruining a perfectly good interview about the benefits of wind power in a modern economy."

"Shut up," Valkyrie snapped. She was about to carry on their argument when the sound of a door opening broke the silence in the alleyway. Kern. "He's here."

"Call me if you need me," Skulduggery said and then the line went dead.

Slipping her phone back into her jacket pocket, Valkyrie turned towards the source of the sound. At the end of the alley a tall man was scurrying towards her. His coat collar was pulled up high so as to protect his face from the wind and rain which had already numbed Valkyrie's skin. Valkyrie stepped into the middle of the alley as he neared. As he got closer and closer, she could see the fear in his eyes. He dabbed at his forehead wiping away not rain, but sweat.

"You're late," Valkyrie said by way of greeting. She didn't like Kern and so she wasn't ready to waste pleasantries on him. Besides, something didn't feel right. He was on edge. But this was his meeting, he had called them, told them he could name Sandra and Alan Smedley's killer. So why was he scared?

"You came alone?" Kern asked, his voice breathy.

"You know I did," Valkyrie answered bluntly.

He hummed and nodded, glancing over her shoulder and then back at her face. His breathing was erratic, the hand that he had used to wipe at his face was shaking.

"Well," Valkyrie prompted. Part of her wanted to called Skulduggery, let him know that something wasn't right. But that would just scare Kern off. This was too important to mess up.

"Well what?" Kern asked, blinking stupidly at her.

"The name," Valkyrie said, trying desperately not to lose her temper, which thanks to the already awful conditions, time and now his behaviour was at breaking point. "You said you knew who killed the Smedleys, you said you had proof."

"I – I did. I mean, I – I do." Kern mithered, correcting himself quickly.

"Show me," Valkyrie demanded. Every instinct she had was telling her that this wasn't right. But she stayed put, there was too much at stake to let this fail. Sandra and Alan Smedley had been mortals and that meant the mortal police were digging around what had clearly been a magical murder. They could uncover any number of truths that would result in the Irish Sanctuary having to go to town on more memory alterations and after Darquesse and Vile had torn up half of Dublin city centre Ravel was desperate to keep mortal awareness of magic at an absolute minimum. "Now. I'm not joking, Kern. You don't tell me what you know right now and I call Skulduggery. You remember him, don't you?"

"Alright, alright, there's no need to threaten me." Kern said, but there was no anger in his words, it was something else. Relief?

"No," said another voice behind Valkyrie. "There isn't."

She whirled round but before she could put up any kind of a fight, there was flash of red light as something had hit her, hard. She staggered back, managing to avoid the next attack that came her way more by luck than anything else. The sound of running signalled Kern's flight. Valkyrie cursed. But she had bigger problems than that rat right now.

The man in front of her was taller than her, with broad shoulders and physicality about him that made Valkyrie realise that she was instantly out matched. A black hood obscured his face from view. His coat was long and black, the same as his trousers. He reminded Valkyrie of the Necromancers she had once known. But this man was no Necromancer.

"Who are you?" Valkyrie asked, slipping her hand into her pocket as she backed away, desperately trying to blindly call the last number that had been used. Even if he couldn't hear her, Skulduggery would know that something had happened.

The man didn't answer.

"Let me guess, you're the one that killed them, aren't you?" Still nothing. It was like talking to a wall, only more intimidating, because walls generally didn't have the ability to kill people. "And this is what, a trap? You got Kern to lure me here and now you're going to kill me, is that it?"

He was getting closer now and no matter how much she kept talking he wasn't slowing down. This wasn't like a film, he wasn't about to remove his hood and reveal all his nefarious little schemes. He was going to kill her too and all Valkyrie had was a choice: either run or fight. A few years ago, Valkyrie knew that she would have scarpered. Back when she was Stephanie Edgley, a scared little girl running from a man like him. But she wasn't that girl anymore.

She waited for him to edge closer still, pretending to be backing away and then as soon as he was close enough she lashed out, driving her boot into his knee. The man cried out in pain, swinging a wild fist at her that Valkyrie easily ducked. His hand came up and another surging streak of red light hurtled for her, but this time she rolled away, splashing through a puddle and coming up on her knees. Her palm struck the air and the man was sent off his feet, smashing into the wall. There was a sickening crunch as the back of his head slammed into brick. He crumpled and fell like a rag doll to the cold, hard floor. He didn't get up. He didn't even move.

Valkyrie rose to her feet, blinking back a small pain in her head. She shook herself and pulled a set of shackles from her pocket. Warily she stepped forwards, poking him with the toe of her boot, just to make sure that he was actually down and not play acting. It had been easy, not that she was complaining, sometimes easy was good.

She was just cuffing him when hurried footsteps signalled the arrival of Skulduggery.

"Nice of you to show up at last," Valkyrie smirked as she turned away from the hooded man and looked at Skulduggery. He had his gun in his hand and somewhere along the way he had lost his hat.

"I was dealing with our friend Douglas," Skulduggery told her. "He thought it would be a good idea to try and get a little revenge instead of actually escaping. I taught him the error of his ways." Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, her eyes flicking to the place where his hat should have been. "He might have got in a lucky shot. Who is this?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Valkyrie shrugged, holding a back a grin as she remembered the first time they had met and he had used those exact same words. "He tried to jump me. We fought, I won, no biggie."

"Any particular reason he wanted to kill you?" Skulduggery asked, holstering his gun as it was no longer necessary for him to be holding it.

"Not that I know of, think he might have been the guy that killed the Smedleys. I'd say ask him but he's a bit busy being, you know, unconscious."

"People who've been beaten up often are," Skulduggery noted. "Right then, if there are no other mysterious strangers around here waiting to pounce?" he paused, waiting for any waiting lunatics to take their cue and leap out. "Excellent, then I suggest we take your new friend and Douglas back to the Sanctuary. I get the feeling that they are in for a long night."

"Mind if you drop me off home first?" Valkyrie asked, not wanting to be part of interrogation this early in the morning. "I'm pretty tired."

"And you need your beauty sleep," Skulduggery finished, if he had a face then Valkyrie was sure he'd be smirking.

"Well, it does take effort to look this great," Valkyrie shrugged, before quickly adding: "Any comments about my hair won't be appreciated."

"You look lovely," Skulduggery said as he hunkered down and scooped up the unconscious body of Valkyrie's attacker. Valkyrie shook her head and together they headed out of the alley and towards the welcoming warmth of the Bentley.


	2. A Rude Awakening

Chapter Two: A Rude Awakening

Valkyrie didn't open her eyes when she woke up. The sound of rain hammering on her bedroom window played a somewhat soothing beat in the background as she lay there. Her body was sore, her muscles ached from the events of the previous night. It wasn't just the fight either, but the hours of training that Skulduggery had put her through. All of it added up to pain the following day, but it was worth it.

"She's awake," an unfamiliar voice said above her head. Valkyrie's eyes snapped open. This wasn't her room. There were no mounds of old clothes, no desk piled high with school work and the floor length mirror she was so used to see was nowhere to be seen. Instead the room she was in was almost bare, a sink and toilet stood in one corner, next to her bed there was a wooden chair and an empty bedside table. A cracked mirror above the sink reflected the ugly tube light which was far too bright. This room had only one window, thick iron bars limited her view as she looked out onto the uninspiring sight of a brick wall stained vomit and graffiti. Beside her a machine pumped out a faint beeping, tubes of varying sizes dangled down all of the connected to Valkyrie. There were two people in the room, but Valkyrie didn't look at them. What the hell was going on?

She tried to get up but an arm came across her vision and forced her back down onto the bed. The mattress squeaked, her head knocked against the cold metal of a frame that shouldn't be there. Valkyrie stared up into the cool eyes of a fairly plain woman. She wore a plain white uniform, trousers, shoe, top, even her hat was the same startling white. Her black hair was tied in a tight bun. Her skin was tanned, she wasn't particularly beautiful but nor was she ugly. Her face was just there, like a mask, passive and uncaring. Her dull brown eyes looked down at Valkyrie without even a hint of emotions in their depths.

"Stephanie," this time, it was a man who spoke. His voice was cold and thick with an accent that Valkyrie couldn't place, it sounded Eastern European, Polish or Romanian or something. He stood at the foot of her bed, holding a clipboard in one hand and slim brown file in the other. He was tall and quite well built. Round glasses sat perched at the end of a long hooked nose, he fixed her with a beetle-black eyed stare. Like the woman who had pushed Valkyrie back down this man too was wearing white, an ugly red tie hung from his neck. A smile pulled at his thin lips, revealing yellowing chipped and uneven teeth.

"I am glad that you are back with us, you had us scared for a moment there." His concern almost managed to reach his eyes as he attached the clipboard to the metal frame at the bottom of the bed. She frowned and it was only as she tried to sit up again that she noticed the pain in her ribs and arms was more than just muscle ache.

"What's happening?" Valkyrie demanded, trying to ignore the fear that made her heart pound and the bile rise in her throat. "What the hell is going on here? Who are you?"

"You don't remember," the man said, but he didn't seem surprised. He gestured to the woman in white and Valkyrie felt the hand on her shoulder retract. "Very well, my name is Doctor Charles Laszlo and this is Nurse Summer Addams." Optimistic name, Valkyrie reflected despite herself as she looked at the cold faced woman. "You have been our patient here for the last four years."

"What? No, I'm not." They stayed silent. "This is a joke," Valkyrie tried, staring at Laszlo waiting for him to smile or something, but his face didn't even crack. "Some kind of sick joke, right?"

"No, Stephanie, it is not." Laszlo answered calmly, he adjusted his glasses, pushing them back up his nose. "Nurse Addams, would you mind fetching me some water, please?" Addams dull eyes flicked to Valkyrie. "Don't worry, if I should need someone in the mean time I shall call."

The nurse nodded, sent a final furtive glance at Valkyrie before heading out of the room, as the door opened Valkyrie and heard the sound of chatter, someone screaming and a high-pitched laugh. When it closed the noises died. Thin, dusty blinds obscured the view through the glass in the thick wooden door.

"Perhaps I should start at the beginning," Laszlo said, pulling the chair towards him, it scraped on the cold tile floor, high-pitched and piercing, Valkyrie felt herself grimace. "This is Saint Dymphna's Psychiatric Hospital, we care for mentally ill or disturbed patients here. As I have already said, you have been in our care for the last forty eight months."

"No," Valkyrie countered as calmly as she could, but her voice was shaking. "I don't know you."

"Yes, you do, Stephanie," Laszlo assured her. "Or would you prefer it if I called you Valkyrie, or perhaps even Darquesse?"

Valkyrie felt her blood run cold. This was wrong. He shouldn't know that name, nobody should know that name. Only Skulduggery and Tanith knew anything about that. To the rest of the world Darquesse was just a name, not Valkyrie. A prophecy, a legend, a scary story, whatever anyone wanted to call it. But to everyone else Darquesse didn't have a face and yet this man, who she didn't even recognise, knew her darkest secret.

"Tell me Stephanie," Laszlo continued when Valkyrie's mouth failed to open, her mind was too busy racing, too busy panicking for words. "What happened the first night that you stayed at your uncle's house?"

"How do you know about that?" Valkyrie demanded.

"Because we have discussed it before, Stephanie," Laszlo told her simply.

"Bullshit!" No, Valkyrie wasn't buying this. She didn't know him. This was all some kind of trick. There was no way this could be real. But even as she tried to deny a small voice in the back of her mind told her that it was. He knew things he shouldn't, things only she or Skulduggery could have told him.

"Your mother let you stay the night," Laszlo said calmly, not even reacting to Valkyrie's outburst. "Her car had broken down, there was only enough room for one person in the rescue vehicle so after some convincing she allowed you to stop. You spent the night reading your uncle's manuscript. Would you like me to continue?"

"I've never told anyone about that," Valkyrie breathed. _Apparently you did,_ the voice in her head whispered. Darquesse. Valkyrie felt her breath hitch, stuck in her throat. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real, it was a dream. It had to be. But Valkyrie knew dreams, had suffered the nightmares from her time with Serpine and all the other bad guys. This was no dream.

"You told me, I could fetch you the tapes if you like, but I would much rather you finish the story for me. There was a man, Stephanie. He broke in, attacked you. Tell me, please, what happened next?"

"Why don't you tell me, seeing as you know so much?"

A thin lipped smile creased his face, it did nothing for him. "Deflection is a classic defence mechanism. Please, Stephanie, believe me I am trying to help you, just tell me what happened."

"Skulduggery," Valkyrie wasn't sure why she answered his question, but the name had come spilling from her mouth before she could stop it. She couldn't help herself. She had to know what was happening. It was all too much. Where was Skulduggery when she needed him? So much for the nick of time rescue he was so famous for. "He came in, saved the day. He does that, you know, and when he finds out I'm here I really wouldn't want to be in your shoes."

"And why is that?"

"He doesn't like people messing with his friends," Valkyrie answered, trying to sound as intimidating as she could but it wasn't exactly easy when she was freaking out this much. Where was he? Or Ghastly? Or anyone? Where were they all? The rain which had seemed so soothing only moments earlier was now thundering loudly in her ears, a dull ache was spreading in her head, intensifying moment by moment as the world unravelled around her.

"He protects you," Laszlo prompted.

"We protect each other," Valkyrie corrected angrily. "We're friends, partners. He wouldn't just leave me here."

"He would save you," the doctor said, he leant forwards looking intently at Valkyrie. "Just as he did that night."

"Yeah, it's kind of his thing."

Laszlo nodded, pursing his lips as if debating how best to proceed. Valkyrie felt her anger bubble inside her but remained still. She knew enough to beat him to a pulp without even really trying. He was a stick of a man, she could easily take him. But they weren't alone here and Valkyrie didn't exactly fancy taking on a building full of guards. She was just going to have to play his little game and wait before she got the hell out. Then, and only then, would she beat the living crap out him for this sick little game.

"I'm afraid, Stephanie, that that is not what happened."

"Yeah, it was," Valkyrie said slowly, as if talking to a child and doing her best not to leap from her bed and punch him in his stupid face. "I was there. I think I'd remember what happened."

"No, you don't. You have spent the last four years repressing what actually took place that night. It was too horrible for you to deal with so you blocked it out, made up a fantasy world, one in which you are the hero, powerful, in control. Skulduggery Pleasant does not exist. He never saved you."

"You're lying!" Valkyrie shouted.

"I wish that I was," Laszlo said sadly, "He is a figment of your imagination. A story. A way for you to cope with what happened to you. The truth is that you were attacked, brutally beaten and when he finally attempted to rob your uncle's house as he had intended you surprised him with the poker. Your mother found you the next morning."

"No, that's not what happened." Valkyrie protested.

"Yes, it is." Laszlo insisted. "The Garda were called, you were detained, questioned and you were later convicted and committed here. On top of all of this you were struggling to come to terms with the death of your uncle, insisting that it was a murder even though the police had found no evidence to suggest otherwise. So rather than face the truth and your own guilt over your crime, you established a highly detailed narrative, one which you have been playing out for the last four years in my care."

"I don't know why you're doing this but this is messed up, you know that?"

"It's the truth," Laszlo said, trying to keep up that calm demeanour but it was cracking in the face of Valkyrie's resistance. He removed his glasses, the hand which wasn't keeping the file firmly in place on his lap came up to his eyes and rubbed them. He looked tired. "I wish that I could simply let you play out this little fantasy," he continued when he had restored his glasses to their rightful place. "And I would, if you weren't so easily provoked. But Stephanie, I have just spent the last three days watching as you underwent dramatic surgery, it is minor miracle that they were able to save you."

"Save me?" Valkyrie repeated, but it was only at his words that she began to pay attention, not to her new surroundings, but to herself. Her head throbbed, her ribs and stomach felt as though they were on fire as she attempted to sit up. She looked down, noticing for the first time the bandages on her arms and stomach, as well as the cast which was clamped firmly around her left ankle.

"You were involved in an altercation," Laszlo explained. "Some of your fellow patients argued with you, they tried to convince you that your friend Skulduggery wasn't real and so you, refusing to listen to them, attacked them. You broke your ankle, bruised your ribs and abdomen, you have several lacerations on your arms as well that you suffered a great deal of internal bleeding. It is for this reason that I must get you to see, Stephanie - you are clinging to a delusion and you are not only a danger to others but also to yourself. They want to move you to highly secure facility for this, one in which you will undergo an intensive pharmaceutical regime that will make you extremely docile. They do not want to help you. They just want to protect the world from you. Please, Stephanie, this is my last chance. They promised that if I could make you understand your situation, make you more calm, then they would allow you to stay here. But we are running out of time."

"No," Valkyrie protested again, but her voice was weak. This was too much. This was all too much. She remembered that night. Skulduggery had saved her, made her his partner, and proved that her uncle had murdered. Yet, at the same time, she could not deny that the pain in her body felt real, up to this point she had been too blinded by confusion to notice but it was there.

"Then prove to me that magic is real," Laszlo said, he leant forwards, his eyes boring into hers.

"What? But you just said… You said I made it up."

"And I stand by that," Laszlo confirmed, "but, as I said, I need you to see it too."

Valkyrie raised her hand, she could feel it trembling, a small tremor shaking its why through her system violently. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Show him it's real, she thought, show him he's wrong and you can get out of her. Do it. Right now. Just do it. She clicked her fingers. Nothing happened. She tried again and again. No spark. No flame. Nothing. She was panicking now, her heart was racing, this couldn't be happening. She tried to push at the air, but there was nothing. She couldn't feel how it all connected. Her magic was gone.

She'd been bound. That was it. Bound. It had to be. It couldn't be anything else. He was trying to prove her point, make her believe his stupid story. She laughed. He'd probably been the one that had put her body through hell too, knocked her out and gone to town on her, try and make her think she'd done it.

"You've bound me," Valkyrie said, another nervous laugh escaping her lips. She'd figured it out. Just as she'd been starting to fall for it. "There aren't any shackles, but you've done it somehow. Put symbols on the bed or something."

"We haven't bound you," Laszlo told her, a tinge frustration on the edge of his voice.

"Oh yeah? Then how do you know what it is?"

"Because I've been conducting your sessions for the last four years, Stephanie. I know every detail of the world which you have created for yourself." He sighed, his fingers playing with the corners of the file on his lap. "Let's try this another way, Darquesse is your dark side, correct?"

"She's my true name," Valkyrie corrected before she could stop herself. She didn't like being associated with Darquesse, she didn't like that the slayer of worlds was a part of her, a mood swing or a bad day waiting to happen.

"But she hurts people," Laszlo continued, side-stepping Valkyrie's outburst. "She is that part of you that you wanted to bury. It's why in your delusions you struggle against her. She is your anger, your rage, everything that came out that night. But just as much as you want to hide her, you cannot face being Stephanie either, defenceless and scared. So you created Valkyrie Cain. Someone who was strong, a hero. She is a way for you to be in control, to shut out your darkness but never be taken advantage of again.

"Stephanie, can't you see? This is all in your mind. You were too young, you couldn't cope with what you had done. You are suffering from a rather extreme form of post-traumatic stress disorder. But instead of night terrors which would remind you of the scars in your past, you refused to accept that your past had ever even taken place. You created a new world. One which you controlled, in which you were brave and yet safe. One in which your uncle did not die, as you saw it, for nothing and perhaps, most importantly, where your attacker was not killed by you, but himself as he fell apart in a canal."

"No, no that's not true. It's real, I didn't… I didn't kill anyone. I would never, I couldn't… Skulduggery saved me."

"Skulduggery Pleasant is not real," Laszlo said, slowly and firmly. "You created him, the perfect partner, confidant, friend, ally; everything you could ever need from a friend. You told me that he was at your uncle's will reading, but all your uncle gave him was advice, wasn't it? No physical gift, nothing that we could trace, just words." Valkyrie said nothing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that he was, once again, right. "He is a fiction that you invented. They all are. Tanith, Ghastly, China, Fletcher, all of them. Please, Stephanie –"

"Stop calling me that!" Valkyrie yelled, her temper finally snapping. She surged at the doctor but the pain in her chest was all too much. Her body screamed, it felt as if someone had torn her open and was dancing on her insides.

"Stephanie, please, calm down. I need you to stay calm." Laszlo was begging her now, pleading. "This will only get worse for you if you do not remain calm. I am trying to help you and believe me I am the only one that will."

"You call this helping me?" Valkyrie spat, taking in a deep lungful of air as she tried to steady her breathing in the face of the overwhelming pain that was surging through her. "You know what would help? Letting me go."

"You know I can't do that, not while you continue to believe in your fantasy. The first step to your recovery is admitting and accepting exactly what it is you have done."

"I didn't do anything," Valkyrie insisted through gritted teeth. Laszlo opened his mouth to speak again, but at that moment the door opened. There were more sounds of chatter, somewhere someone shouted. The nurse, Addams, looked at the doctor sheepishly as he hurriedly waved at her to close the door.

"I got you your water," Addams said, holding up the glass in her hand.

"Thank you, nurse, if you could just leave it on the sink and then, please, give us a few more minutes?"

"Of course," Addams nodded. She set down class on the white, uneven surface. Inside the glass the water tilted. "I'll be just outside if you need me."

Laszlo sent her a thankful half-smile as the nurse retreated back the way she had come, opening up the door and letting in the circus of noise which burst in from outside and when the shut, there was silence again. It settled over the room like dust in a mausoleum. Valkyrie said nothing. Her head was spinning and her entire body was ripped with pain from her sudden attempt at movement. But physical pain was the least of her worries. She could deal with that. This scheme of Laszlo's was something else.

What kind of a mind could even come up with something like this? He was sick and twisted. Valkyrie thought that she had seen evil before, but it was only as she looked at the man who claimed to be her doctor that she truly saw it. He was playing with her, pulling her strings and making her dance. This was just a game for him. It had to be. The alternative was all too terrifying to even contemplate. Skulduggery was real. Her life was real. Nothing he said was going to change that.

"I had hoped I would not have to show you these," Laszlo said, opening the file which he had been clutching on his lap the entire time. Inside Valkyrie saw photographs, glossy and large, like the kind she was used to seeing in the Sanctuary files whenever Skulduggery took her on research missions. "But you have given me no other choice." He took out the photographs and one by one placed them on her lap. "These were taken by the Garda once they had been called to your uncle's house."

Valkyrie snatched at them, there had been no photos taken by the police. Her mum hadn't even noticed that the door had been kicked in, there had been no need for the Garda to be summoned. But Valkyrie's eyes scanned the pictures she felt her blood run cold. These were no photos of a run of the mill break in. The house was mess, cupboards had been ransacked, the paintings had been ripped from the wall and in the centre of the living room there lay a body. Blood, too much blood, pooled around it. It Valkyrie a moment to realise that the mangled mess above its shoulders was what remained of the man's head.

In every picture of the crime scene there was a young girl, black hair caked with blood, her face stained scarlet but it was her eyes that scared Valkyrie the most. They were dead. Staring blankly at the body, seeing nothing. All around the little girl there were cops, some were trying to talk to her, others were going about their jobs and the final officer was in the corner. His face was a combination of green and grey as he stared at the horror show in front of him. Kneeling next to the girl was a woman, she was crying, trying to hug the girl. But the girl didn't even react. Valkyrie knew that woman, just as she knew that little girl. Her mother and herself.

The next set of photos must have been taken later. The girl had been cleaned, her clothes were gone and instead had been replaced by a clean set of grey trousers and an over large jumper, but her eyes were still dead. Now that the blood had been washed away Valkyrie could see the bruises, black and purple, which had formed on the tiny girl's face. Smaller bruises, lighter than the others, had been pressed into her neck where fingers had choked her.

There were more pictures, but no more of the girls. There were some photos of the poker which had been tagged as evidence. The clothes that the little girl had been wearing had been put into a bag, same as the poker they too served as evidence.

Valkyrie tossed them aside, her jaw clenched tightly shut as bile rose in her throat and tears swam in her eyes. A sob escaped her lips, she brushed at her eyes, forcing away the sign of her sorrow. The tears were warm against her skin. But as much as she tried to hide it, it was impossible. She was crying. Laszlo watched as impassively as he could, but even through her swimming vision Valkyrie could see the pain on his face.

"I am sorry, Stephanie, truly I am." Laszlo's voice had lost its calm. It shook as he watched unable to help as Valkyrie's world crashed down around her. "I never wanted to have to show you those."

Valkyrie didn't say anything, the proof of what he had been telling her fell from her grasp as her hands went to her face. This couldn't be happening. They had made-up, forgeries, doctored, something, anything. But the more Valkyrie had looked at them, taken in every last detail, the more she had begun to remember.

The memories fought alongside her old ones, the ones Laszlo said she had invented. There had been no phone call, no skeleton detective to save the day. Instead Valkyrie remembered seeing the man's face pressed hard against the window and the cruel smile that had spread across it at the sight of her. She had backed away from the window, running for the phone but then there had been a loud bang and the door had flown from its hinges. She had screamed, tried to run, but he had been fast, faster than her. He tackled her, pinning her to the ground, his hands around her throat. She remembered trying to break, feeling her life begin to flicker from her body. She had tried to prise his fingers from her neck but it had been no good, he was too strong, but then she had jammed a finger in his eye and he'd fallen back, cursing in rage. Valkyrie, no Stephanie, had gotten to her feet, desperate to run again but her bid for freedom had lasted only a few seconds before he was there again. He hit her this time, once, twice around the face before picking her up and bodily slamming her through the coffee table.

There been nothing then, just blackness and pain. But then she had woken up, dragged herself from unconsciousness. She had heard him first, rather than seen him. He was rummaging through her uncle's things, grabbing what he wanted, taking his time. He had his back to her, he hadn't even noticed she was awake. That was when she had moved, all the fear and the anger pumping through had taken control. She remembered gingerly moving, the pain making her head swim and lights dance in her vision. She had reached for the poker, taken a firm two handed grip, watched as it shook in her hands. But then she had raised it high above her head and done the only thing she could, the only thing her grief-stricken brain would let her. This was her uncle's house, whoever this man was he had had no right to be there – Stephanie had already lost her uncle, what remained in his house was all she had left, she couldn't lose that too.

The first strike had been hard, taking him by surprise. He had buckled, wheeled around but the next slammed into his face, and again and again until he was on the floor. But she hadn't stopped at that. She had just kept going, on and on until all she was doing was hitting the floor where his face should have been.

"It's true," Valkyrie breathed, wiping hard at her face, trying to brush the tears away. "I… I remember."

"That's good," Laszlo said encouragingly, he was on his feet, heading for the door. He pulled it open, muttering something to the nurse outside. There was a brief conversation, but Valkyrie didn't care what was said. Her head was spinning. She had wanted so much to believe that this wasn't true, that it was a lie or a trick. But she remembered it, felt it, there was no way that could be faked. She had killed that man. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of it. But perhaps worse than that, her life was a lie. Everything she thought she knew she had invented. Her name wasn't Valkyrie Cain. She was Stephanie Edgely, she had no magic, she wasn't important. She was just a little girl who'd gotten lost in the ruin of herself.

"Good?" Stephanie repeated, dumb-founded. "How is this good? I killed someone!"

"The first step to overcoming any problem is first admitting that there is one," Laszlo told her. "Whilst I admit that it is somewhat of a cliché it is still true."

He pulled back the blinds and now Stephanie could see the room outside her own. It was like her room, but on a larger scale. It was a ward of patients like her. Along one side was a series of beds. Some of them were occupied, other lay empty as the patients were sat on the hard backed chairs on the other side of the room. Some were talking, others were staring off into space. One woman was stood in the corner, her lips moved rapidly but there was nobody listening to her. At the end of the ward stood a large set of double doors, two men in white stood either side of the door, two men that Stephanie knew well. Erskine Ravel and Ghastly Bespoke, yet both men were different to how she knew them. Erskine's eyes were a pale blue and Ghastly was without his scars, but they were still them.

"I know them," Stephanie said, pulling herself up on her bed so as to get a better look at the mine, ignoring the pain ripping through her. Her anger was forgotten in the face of a new mystery, albeit a momentary respite. "Those two guards."

"Of course you do, Stephanie." Laszlo frowned, taking his gaze away from the double doors.

"No, I don't mean from here. I, no, Valkyrie knew them. They were her friends."

"Interesting, though perhaps it is not all that surprising. It has been theorised that the one thing the human brain cannot create is a face. The people we see in our dreams, for instance, could be those who we have passed in the street and forgotten. In your case, your delusions have taken the face of our orderlies here." He turned back to the window. "Ah, here we are."

The double doors had opened and a man in an exquisite suit strode through them. It reminded Stephanie of one of Skulduggery's suits, or perhaps Skulduggery's suits reminded her of this man's? Valkyrie groaned. This was so messed up. The man was tall, clean shaven, with high cheek bones and a solid jaw. He walked with a strong sense of purpose. The patients around him muttered, some turned their backs as he passed, but he ignored them.

"Doctor Tanenbaum, thank you for joining us," Laszlo said once he pulled open the door and his fellow doctor had walked inside.

"Nurse Addams informs me that you have made some progress?" Tanenbaum commented, cutting straight to the chase and dispensing with any pleasantries.

"Indeed, I believe that we have made a break-through," Laszlo was almost smiling, as if relieved to have caused Stephanie's whole world to fall apart. She wanted to hate him for it, but she had seen the pain in his face, heard it in his voice. Laszlo actually cared about her, he was doing this to try and help her. "Stephanie, this is Doctor Geoffrey Tanenbaum, he is the head of this ward. He's going to ask you some questions, if that's okay?"

Stephanie nodded, reality was beginning to sink in. Shock was slowly fading from her mind as the pressing realisation that the world she had loved wasn't real was becoming stronger and stronger as each second passed.

"What is your name?" Tanenbaum asked with what Stephanie was being to realise was his version of tact.

"Stephanie Edgely." The truth was that Valkyrie Cain didn't exist, couldn't exist. She was Stephanie Edgely, a girl lost in the dark, only unlike everybody else her darkness was inside herself.

"Who is Skulduggery Pleasant?"

"No-one, I made him up. He's not real."

 _He is,_ insisted the voice in her head, but Stephanie ignored it. He couldn't be real. He was a magical skeleton, a walking, talking impossibility. He threw fire, could fly and saved the world from gods and demons. He was amazing, everything she had ever needed, her hero. But the real world didn't have heroes. He was a fantasy, _her_ fantasy. The man who had shown her she could be more than herself, but she couldn't. The more she thought about it, the more Stephanie could see how ridiculous it was. In what world would anyone take a kid under their arm and make them a detective? No-one would trust a child to solve crimes or save the world. She was just a pathetic girl who had snapped. She wasn't magical. She wasn't the last descendent of a race of super magical beings, she wasn't a world-breaker, or anything else her brain had made up to make herself feel more and more powerful.

"And why did you do that?"

"I…" Stephanie faltered, feeling the warm trickle a tear begin its way down her cheek. "Please, don't make me say it."

"You have to, Stephanie," Laszlo interjected. "Please. It's the only way we can help you."

"I made him up because…" Stephanie sniffed, wiping at her tears again and taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. "Because I couldn't… I didn't… I never…" the tears were pouring from her eyes now, cascading down her cheeks as words began to fail her. Laszlo's eyes were fixed on her, silently pleading for her to continue as Tanenbaum watched on impassively, his arms folded across her chest. "Because I didn't want to believe what I'd done. I didn't want it to be real. I still don't. But it is. I killed someone. I don't even know his name." A humourless laugh escaped her lips at that sudden realisation before she continued. "He attacked me, tried to steal my uncle's stuff, so I… I stopped him."

oOo

The questions didn't stop there, they seemed to go on for hours, becoming more and more detailed with each one. But they were gone now. Day had turned to night and Stephanie's room was empty. Moonlight tried to shine through her window, but most of the full moon which hung high in the sky was covered by thick, dense grey cloud. It was still raining. Stephanie stared at the ceiling. Everything felt dull, nothing had an edge. They'd given her something. Alprazolam, or something, whatever it was called it was supposed to calm her down and it had. Her tears had long since dried up and her anger had faded. Hell, everything had. The world felt grey.

Laszlo had stayed for a while after Tanenbaum had left. Apparently it had gone well, not that Stephanie had noticed. If she kept this up, kept behaving, didn't relapse, then in a few weeks she might be able to see her parents again. Her violent tendencies had locked off visitation rights, but would they want to come? Who would want to see their daughter like this? Images of her mum's face as she tried to hug a blood-soaked Stephanie swam to the surface of her mind. Could she really put her mum through that again? And her dad, how was he going to cope? Stephanie always remembered him smiling, happy, but she doubted that he would be in that kind of mood if he came to this place. Even if they did want to come, Stephanie wasn't sure if she could ever face them again. Her breakdown would have put them through so much pain and torment. She loved her folks, she never wanted to make them suffer like that and seeing her in this place might do it to them again. She had already ruined their lives once, could she do it again?

Stephanie sighed, rolling onto her side, trying to get comfortable as her dark thoughts plagued her mind and the beeping of the machine she was hooked up to persisted. How could she have fooled herself for this long? Of course it hadn't been real. It was all too neat. Skulduggery always coming to her aid just in the nick of time, being the perfect friend, constantly understanding her. Even as her darkness had penetrated her delusions in the form of Darquesse he had understood by conveniently being Lord Vile. That had broken the laws of the magic she had created, but she had just accepted it. Everything had been to make her feel the opposite of how she had done. Scared. Weak. Cowardly. Their code phrase had been 'be brave' for God's sake. He'd even said it himself. He was could be a 'figment of his own imagination'. What more of a clue did she need? It wasn't real. It had never been real.

"Hello there, Valkyrie. Fancy seeing you here."

Stephanie almost screamed. Standing in the corner, his hands in his pockets and his hat pulled low over an empty eye socket was none other than Skulduggery Pleasant.


	3. Questioning Reality

Chapter Three: Questioning Reality

"Skul – Skulduggery?" Stephanie stammered, staring disbelievingly at the skeleton in the corner. "No, no, you can't be here. You're not real."

Skulduggery tilted his head. "Actually, I am. Although, I can understand the confusion, I am rather brilliant, so much so that some have said I defy reality."

"No, you're not. I made you up." Stephanie told him, it, whatever the hell he was. What did she think of him as now? A figment? So an 'it', right? But he seemed so real. God, this was messed up. The headache, which still hadn't faded, pounded harder and harder at the forefront of her mind, drilling into her skull just above her temple.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Skulduggery muttered, taking his hands from his pockets as he strolled over to her. Stephanie felt herself back up into the frame of the bed and her heart begin to race. She was scared of him. Not what he could do, but what his appearance meant. He'd appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a locked ward in a highly-secure hospital. What more proof did she need that he was inside her head?

Skulduggery stopped as soon as she moved, noticing how defensive she was. He held up his gloved hands in a calming gesture, just like Stephanie had seen people treat spooked horses. "I'm sorry, I should've come sooner, but we've been trying other ways to get you back. To be honest, this was a last resort."

"What do you mean, 'get me back'?"

"You've been having headaches, haven't you? Right here?" He raised a single finger to his skull, pointing to the space above his dark and empty eye socket.

"So what? Everyone gets headaches." Stephanie argued defiantly. Resist, she thought, and then he'd go away. Simple as that. They wanted to chuck her in a place worse than prison. She couldn't go there. He was her delusion fighting back, her mind trying to regress to the safety of her made-up reality. Laszlo had warned her something like this might happen – relapses were common, he'd said, especially in patients who had created highly detailed narratives to escape reality like herself.

"Yes, but these won't go away, will they?" Skulduggery pressed. "Cassandra has been trying everything she can think of to break through the barriers that have been set up around your mind. Nothing has worked." He paused, noticing the frown crease her brow and her mouth hang open in stunned confusion. "Do you remember that man in the alley? The one that attacked you?"

"He didn't attack me, that wasn't real." Stephanie responded, trying to make her voice strong but it was already beginning to waver. Lack of sleep, fear and confusion was not a good cocktail.

"For the time being we shall agree to disagree," Skulduggery said with a shrug. "My point is, that man attacked you with a magical attack designed to induce a dream state. It is a two pronged attack, the first renders the opponent physically useless as they're knocked unconscious. The second, is far worse, it creates a personalised nightmare inside the victim's mind. This," he gestured to the room around them, "this is _your_ nightmare."

"But I beat that guy up," Stephanie protested, "if you're really you, and that really happened, then you're wrong. I arrested him, you saw me arrest him. You threw him in the Bentley and you took me home."

"No, that was all a part of the dream. He let you think you'd won, lured you into a false sense of security and then once you had relaxed his nightmare truly begins. I found you in that alley after our friend Douglas tried to escape. By the time I got there it was too late, the damage was already done. Not that that stopped me arresting him. He could, of course, reverse what he's done, stop the process. But, no matter how hard I tried, he didn't see it my way. Everyone has a breaking point, you know that, but we're running out of time. If you fall too far into this then there's no way I can get you back. Cassandra, as I said, has been trying to get through to you. That's why you've been having all these headaches, it's been her trying to break through but whatever has happened in here has fortified the mental barriers too much. Again, if we had time, she might be able to get through but we don't."

"So what? She sent you to try and talk me out?"

"More or less, yes," Skulduggery nodded, he looked around at the room, taking in every last detail. "What is this place, anyway? A hospital?"

"More or less," Stephanie replied tightly. Her head was spinning. There was no firm place on which to stand. Everything felt real and yet fictitious all at once. She'd seen what magic could do to people, seen people rupture just from a look, knew a man who could appear anywhere and bought herself back from the dead as Darquesse. What was to say that there wasn't some weirdo with the power to create nightmares? Nothing. But in the same moment, this could all be her mind trying to rebel against the horrid truth of her life. A way out. This way she wasn't a killer, just a victim to a sicko in an alley and Skulduggery was there to save her once again, just like he always was.

"Why are you here though? What's so bad about a hospital?" Stephanie didn't say anything, her mind was too busy tearing itself apart trying to figure out what was the truth and what was the lie. "Wait, you said I wasn't real, yes?" Silence greeted his words once more. "This is a psychiatric hospital. Very clever."

"What do you mean 'clever'?" Stephanie snapped despite herself.

"He's convinced you you're insane, it's the perfect defence. No matter what I say, you can simply dismiss it as a delusion or a falsehood. It's the perfect way to discredit me and any efforts to bring you back." He paused, his head turning to her, looking away from the room. "But why is this your nightmare?" She didn't answer. She wasn't entirely sure what to believe. She remembered killing that man and not like how she remembered the reflections memories, as if seeing them through someone else's eyes, these memories had emotions, they had felt so real. "Valkyrie? What did they say you've done?"

Stephanie said nothing. Skulduggery waited a moment, as if expecting an answer, but when she didn't speak he turned away from her and began scanning the room. After a moment, he settled on the clipboard attached to the end of her bed. He moved to it and then hunkered down so as he could read it.

"This is your dream," Skulduggery explained. "I can't touch anything, which also probably means that if we're interrupted nobody is going to see me." Like a hallucination, Stephanie thought. "Internal bleeding, bruised ribs and abdomen, a broken ankle and several cuts to the forearms. Patient is stable post-surgery."

He paused as if skimming down the page and then said. "Comments: Patient is highly volatile, prone to violence. She has created a highly-detailed narrative, which when others criticise or question it provokes her. This reliance on her fantastical world prevents her, at this time, from accepting her role in the killing of an unidentified man four years previously. For her own safety she has been isolated so as to prevent from contact with other patients and visitors who may provoke a violent reaction. Signed: Dr Charles Laszlo."

"See, you're a coping mechanism." Stephanie told him, fighting down the bile which had risen in her throat again. Hearing it said like that, so bluntly, nobody should have to listen to that.

"Valkyrie, I -"

"No!" Stephanie shouted, she didn't want to listen to him try and deny it. "I remember it! Skulduggery, don't you get it, I actually remember doing it! I took a poker and I beat that guy to death. You didn't save me, you weren't there, and you're not real!"

There was a sudden commotion outside, as her shouts woke some of the others. People were screaming, someone shouted for a doctor. But Skulduggery ignored them, instead moving to her side and kneeling so that his skull was level with her face.

"No, you didn't, it's the memories that are fake. That's all a part of this, it's designed to make your worst nightmare come true." He said gently. "You remember the way that Sandra and Alan Smedley were found tortured but with no signs of physical assault. This is how it happens. He traps you inside yourself and makes your worst fears flesh. That's what this is. He has made it so that you have lost everything you ever cared about. Me, Ghastly, your magic, you can't even see your parents here."

"But I felt it, Skulduggery I actually wanted to kill him."

"Then what happened yesterday?" Skulduggery asked quickly. "If you can remember that, then you'll remember your life here too, yes?"

"I don't know, I was unconscious."

"Okay then, before that, what happened then? Can you remember?"

"I was beaten up?"

"Who by? What did they look like? Where did they attack you? Or did you attack them? What happened, why was there a fight?" Skulduggery's questions came thick and fast, rushing over her like a tidal wave. She wanted to answer them, but there was nothing there. "You can't remember, can you? Because this isn't real."

"I probably got concussion or something," Stephanie tried to explain, but even as the words escaped her lips they sounded weak, like an excuse.

"There's no note of that on your records," Skulduggery pointed out. "You can't remember, but you can remember your life with me, I know you can."

"I – yeah, okay, but maybe I just, I don't know, maybe this part of coping, right? Like I have to give you up before I can actually get better or something."

"I couldn't have put it better myself," a voice said from the door way. Doctor Charles Laszlo stood there, two orderlies were behind him. The noise from the ward had died down now, but Stephanie had been too preoccupied with her crisis of being to realise. "You can leave us," he said to the two orderlies. "I suggest that you take care of our other patients."

They nodded and headed away. Laszlo stepped inside, carefully shutting the door behind him.

"I take it then," Laszlo began as he approached, his clasped behind his back and his tone calm, "that Skulduggery is here, Stephanie?"

"Doctor Laszlo, I assume?" Skulduggery asked, only a second behind.

"Yeah," Stephanie answered, nodding for both questions. This was so weird. The old cliché of stuck between a rock and hard place had never seemed more appropriate. No matter which one of them was telling the truth one of them had to be a hallucination, a dream. One was a coping strategy, the other the embodiment of a nefarious sorcerer determined to trap and kill her inside her own mind. Both were possible and neither was even slightly appealing. Stephanie closed her eyes against the pain in her mind, this was all too much.

"That's not Laszlo," Skulduggery told Stephanie, "that's the man that attacked you. You couldn't see him because of the hood, but that's him."

"Stephanie, would I be right in saying that Skulduggery is here attempting to talk you out of your acceptance of reality?" Laszlo asked, his words jarring slightly against Skulduggery's as both men spoke at once.

"Don't answer him," Skulduggery advised her, "it's what he wants, for you to question everything you know."

"Everything I think I know," Stephanie corrected. She couldn't help herself. No matter what Skulduggery said she couldn't escape the fact that she remembered attacking that man, wanting to hurt him. There was no way that could be faked, could it?

"I'll take that as a yes," Laszlo said, he was at the end of her bed now. His hands came down, clasping the metal frame as his eyes fixed on Stephanie. "Giving him up is a monumental step towards your recovery. As long as you continue entertain the idea that he is real you cannot fully accept what it is you have done, nor can you hope to get better, see your parents again and live a relatively normal life. You do want that, don't you?"

"Why would she when this isn't real?" Skulduggery countered, despite the fact that his words fell on deaf ears. "Valkyrie, listen to me. He's not a doctor. He's a murderer and you need to wake up. Now."

"I… I don't know." Stephanie wanted to cry. Her mind felt broken, it had been pulled in two directions and she no idea which was the right way to go.

"You know what they'll do if you show even the slightest signs of a relapse," Laszlo pressed, the same sorrow that Stephanie had seen in his eyes earlier returning once more. "Please, Stephanie, for your own sake, don't let that happen."

"You saved me from insanity once, stopped me from destroying myself in a world of demented demons and gods," Skulduggery said, his voice was dark. She had never heard him really talk about what happened after the Faceless Ones had dragged him through the portal. He had kept it bottled up, hidden from her and everyone else. "I'm not going to stand by and watch as he tries to do the same to you. I'm not a hallucination. If I was, if everything we've done together was just a story, why did Kenspeckle have to die? He was your friend. If it is a coping mechanism, why would you put yourself through that? Why would I disappear for months, why would your mother be assaulted and why would I be Vile? It doesn't make sense."

"Unless that's the point," Stephanie suggested, "so I don't face up to all of this."

"That's nonsense," Skulduggery dismissed. "Life isn't perfect, I'll grant you that, but according to him it wasn't life you were trying to replicate, rather you were attempting to escape from it. So why put yourself through more pain?"

"Guilt? Regret? A subconscious clue? A way to make it all the more convincing? I don't know, I mean look at Darquesse, she could be real or she could just be my dark side, the one that got out when I…" she trailed off, she didn't want to say it again. She'd admitted it enough for one day. All she wanted now was sleep, a way to ignore the battle that raged inside her head. But there was no escaping it. She had to choose. They were forcing her to. "I don't know anymore, alright?"

"Yes, you do," Laszlo interjected. "You saw it earlier, admitted it, this is the final step. Accept that this is the truth, Skulduggery Pleasant isn't real. Accept that and this will all be over. I promise. All you have to do, is trust me."

"If this wasn't a dream I'd shoot you," Skulduggery snarled angrily. "Valkyrie, the longer you're stuck here the harder it's going to be for us to get you out."

"It's not that easy,"

"Why not?"

"If I do that, and this is real, they're going to send me somewhere worse, somewhere my folks are never going to see me again. This is my last chance."

"Of course it is," Skulduggery said completely unsurprised. "It's just another incentive to get you to stop here. He knew I'd try and pull you out so he had to make you want to stay, despite this being your own nightmare." He paused, his head tilting as if he was listening to voices that Valkyrie couldn't hear. "You're right. This is her choice."

He sighed and then approached her side, kneeling beside her. She was glad he didn't have a face, at least this way she didn't have to see the pain she was causing. "Valkyrie, there's a reason he's trying to make you not believe in me and it isn't just because of what you'll lose. It's because I'm the only person that's going to be able to change your mind. I hope I have and I hope you'll do whatever it takes to wake up. But this is your choice, there's nothing I can do now."

With that he rose to his feet, murmured something and then with a slight flicker he vanished into nothing.

"He's gone," Stephanie said and she could feel her heart breaking. It was one thing to be told that he wasn't real, it was quite another to have to watch him leave her for what could be forever. She didn't want to lose him.

Laszlo nodded, removed his glasses and wiped at them with the hem of his jacket. The silence ballooned between them, the noises outside had died down, the orderlies had restored order in the chaos once more. Only when Laszlo had returned his glasses to their rightful did he speak again, "they're going to assess you tomorrow. I hope for your sake that you make the right choice."

"And what if I don't?" Stephanie asked just as Laszlo had turned to leave.

He looked back at her, dark eyes meeting hers over the rims of his glasses. "Then there's nothing I can do to help you. We're out of time, this your last chance, Stephanie. Please take it."

A sad smile pulled at his lips and it was almost as if Stephanie could see the combined pain of four years of effort and pain etched on his face. Four years of nothing but trying to help her, care for her. Four years that could just as easily be wasted as they could be fruitful, it all came down to her.

The darkness of night pressed in on Stephanie after the doctor had left. The rain clouds which persisted on drenching the hospital had come to rest over the moon blocking the pale moonlight from trickling into her room. She felt trapped and alone, stuck with an impossible choice. She wanted to believe Skulduggery, wanted this world to be a dream that she could step out of and abandon. But she couldn't help wonder if he was the dream. Before him she'd have laughed at the idea magic was real and what kind of person would trust a kid to be a detective, put their life at constant risk and flout every protocol by showing her a world of wonder?

Laszlo had a point, Skulduggery had always been there, always saved her and made her feel strong, brave, everything that the memories of killing that man didn't. But so did Skulduggery, if it was the perfect world why had it broken her heart so many times? Was it just her subconscious punishing her for her guilt or was Laszlo simply trying to twist the facts to suit his own theory? Both were just as likely.

But what about her parents? Here they'd watched as she descended into madness and been prevented from seeing her. Sure, this was supposed to fix all that but if she got out of the hospital would they even want her back? Would they really see her or would they just see their scared little girl or worse a cold-blooded killer? Maybe they'd be better off without her. At least then they could move on. In the world of magic her folks still knew her, still loved her, even though Stephanie lied to them every day. If Skulduggery was right and this killed her then they'd be stuck with the reflection for the rest of their lives. They'd notice when it never aged, wonder why their daughter was pulling a Dorian Grey or maybe the Sanctuary would take it away. Reflections weren't meant to replace people forever. None of those possibilities were good, Stephanie would be abandoning them in one world to try and be with them in other whatever happened.

But which would she choose?


	4. Laszlo

Chapter Four: Laszlo

"I think she's waking up, guys. Yo, Skul-man, I think I saw her move!"

"Finbar?" Valkyrie groaned, her head span as she tried to move. But the pain in her body was gone, so were the over bright lights that had burned at her eyelids and the sound of rain. Her bed wasn't uncomfortable either, instead it was warm and plush. She felt an entire mound of pillows prop up her head.

"Yeah, it's me, man!" Finbar shouted excitedly and as Valkyrie opened her eyes could see his beaming pierced face leaning over her. In any other circumstance she may have found it disturbing, but it was relief to see him again. "You're back, I mean you never really went anywhere, like physically, but you're actually _back_ back, you know?"

"Give her some room, Finbar," Cassandra Pharos chided patiently from Valkyrie's side. She was sitting on an old armchair that Valkyrie recognised in an instant. It was Skulduggery's. This was his living room, well, one of them. The sofa had been pushed to one side to make room for the bed that Valkyrie now lay in. The curtains had been drawn and only the big ceiling light lit the room. "Valkyrie, it's good to see you again. I wish that it was under nicer conditions but I'm glad that you're okay. Try not to move too quickly, we still have no idea the extent of the damage that was caused."

"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Valkyrie muttered bitterly, the memories of what that place had made her think, made her question made her skin crawl.

"Valkyrie," despite the situation which she found herself, the horrors she had faced and the nightmare she had been forced to endure, Valkyrie couldn't help but smile at the sound of that voice. Dressed in the same exquisite suit that he had worn in her dream was none other than Skulduggery Pleasant. He strolled towards them casually from the next room, as if it was perfectly normal for her to be lying in his front room. "I knew you'd make the right choice."

"Really? Cause you didn't exactly sound so sure earlier."

"Nonsense, I'm always sure," Skulduggery said dismissively a smile in his voice. "Wouldn't you be if you were me? It's very reassuring to be this amazing all the time."

"You're hilarious," Valkyrie muttered dryly, shaking her head at his antics. "Why are we in your house anyway? Shouldn't we be in the Sanctuary?"

"Strictly speaking, yes," Skulduggery conceded. "But I thought you'd rather wake up to more familiar surroundings. That and I imagine the sight of Nye would've made you wish you were back in the nightmare."

"That thing is creepy," Valkyrie agreed laughing a little as she did so. It felt good to smile again.

"So I decided to bring you here," Skulduggery concluded. "Then I called Cassandra, who naturally alerted Finbar to the situation."

"I might not have my powers like," Finbar said, "and it's been ages since I came here or even, you know, left the house but I couldn't just sit and do nothing."

"Thanks Finbar."

"No problemo, man," Finbar shrugged. He looked better than when Valkyrie had last seen him. Whatever that Remnant had done to him had taken its toll, but from the outside at least he appeared to be on the mend.

They stayed in the house for a few hours after that, Cassandra wanted to make sure that Valkyrie's mind hadn't suffered any permanent damage from the effects of her trip down nightmare lane. Only when the old sensitive was done did Valkyrie and Skulduggery, who had been on the phone with Ghastly for the best part of an hour filling him on what had happened, left the confines of his home. Cassandra had turned down an offer of a lift, saying that she and Finbar would manage by themselves, and so instead of returning their friends home Valkyrie and Skulduggery headed straight for the Sanctuary.

"So," Skulduggery said after fifteen minutes of silence filled only by the quiet purring of the Bentley, "why'd you come back?"

"Sorry?" Valkyrie had been hoping to avoid this particular topic of conversation. She was leaning her head against the window, her eyes had been closed as she enjoying the soothing cool of the glass. But as soon as she Skulduggery had spoken she had opened them once more and turned slightly to look at him.

"When I spoke to you, I have to say that you seemed rather adamant I wasn't real." His tone was serious, devoid of the humour which had filled it earlier. "What changed your mind?"

"I don't know," Valkyrie shrugged, but it was a lie, she knew it and so did he. She could see it in the way he titled his head and stayed quiet, as if waiting for her to correct herself. God, why did he have to know her so well? "I guess, part of me was convinced by your whole 'life isn't a dream' thing."

"Part of you?"

"Yeah, I mean I still kind of believed Laszlo too. He'd spent hours telling me what I'd done, shown me pictures and Skulduggery those memories they felt so… real. I know what fake memories should feel like and they weren't that." She sighed, going back to resting her head against the glass and staring out of the window. She couldn't look at him. Even though they hadn't happened it still felt like they had. "Don't get me wrong, I don't want that to be real. I want this. Us. But you don't know what it was like, the way he made everything fit, got me questioning everything, it was hard not to see it his way."

"And now?"

"Now what?"

"Do you see it his way now?"

"No," Valkyrie answered, "it was a trap like you said."

Skulduggery nodded and awkward silence resumed. He wasn't going to push her, she knew that. Unlike anyone else, he knew what it was to deal with demons and walk away. The easy path would have been just to cave in, let the hospital become her life and take the carrot Laszlo had dangled before her. A part of her still wondered if she'd done the right thing, if she was back there, living out a delusion while doctors took notes and locked her away. There was still a chance that was true. But at the same time there had been a chance that it wasn't, and that she'd be making her folks and little baby Alice lose her for good and have the reflection take over her life. No matter how slim that chance was, if there was something Valkyrie could do about it then she wasn't going to let it happen. She couldn't abandon them, just like Skulduggery couldn't abandon her. Falling for the nightmare would've been the coward's way out and if there was one thing Valkyrie Cain wasn't it was a coward.

"After this can you take me home?" Valkyrie asked a few minutes later as they neared Roarhaven. "I don't really feel like training."

"Of course," Skulduggery replied before adding, "we could go now, if you wanted? You don't have to do this."

"I want to," Valkyrie said quickly, she had to see him, had to know why he had done what he had done and perhaps seeing him would settle some of the worries in the back of her mind and put this to bed.

"You don't have to prove anything," Skulduggery told her. "There's nothing shameful in going home."

"I know," Valkyrie nodded. "And I get that you're just trying to look out for me, but I need to do this."

"I understand," Skulduggery said as they continued down the narrow lane which led towards the magical town. Silence fell again and Valkyrie knew he wouldn't push any further. If anyone was going to get it then it was Skulduggery.

Roarhaven was as unimpressive and dingy as Valkyrie remembered it. Even though the sun was shining and casting everywhere else they had been in a beautiful, idyllic light, Roarhaven still managed to look awful. Valkyrie missed the old Sanctuary. Even after it had been blown up it was probably still better looking. Being here at the best of times never made her feel great and as she stepped out of the Bentley and joined Skulduggery on the way to the Sanctuary Valkyrie's mood somehow managed to plummet. The laughter from hours earlier was forgotten as she trudged up the steps and into the main hall. It wasn't just being in Roarhaven, it was the fact that she was minutes away from facing the man who had put her through a living hell.

The journey to the interrogation room was uneventful, Roarhaven mages hurried past them looking miserable, but they always looked miserable so there was no change there. Two Cleavers stood guard, one either side of the door that led to Laszlo. Ghastly Bespoke, who had shed his elder robes as he often did in times of stress and was instead dressed in a black waistcoat, matching trousers, a crisp white shirt and blood red tie, was standing a few feet away from them looking pensive. The look vanished as soon as his head rose and he saw Valkyrie and Skulduggery heading towards him. A relieved smile spread across his scared face.

"Valkyrie," he said, the relief as clear in his voice as it was on his face. "How are you holding up? Skulduggery told me what happened."

"Yeah, good," Valkyrie lied. She had already had to deal with Skulduggery's patient brand of support, she didn't think she could face Ghastly's too.

"Has he said anything else since I've been gone?" Skulduggery asked, steering the conversation away from Valkyrie's state of mind. Had Ghastly not been watching she would've shot him an appreciative smile.

"No," Ghastly answered, "and we haven't told him that Valkyrie managed to make it out either."

"Good," Skulduggery said before turning to Valkyrie, "wait out here."

"What? I thought you said I was coming in too?"

"You are, but I want to talk to him first."

"When you say talk you mean punch him, don't you?" Valkyrie guessed.

"This is the first time I've ever come across something like this," Skulduggery replied, ignoring her question, "we need to find out how it works and if he knows that you're safe. The fact he was able to maintain it without being in direct contact with you suggests an incredible level of power. We can't be taken surprise by this again, Valkyrie."

"Alright, fine," Valkyrie agreed, somewhat snappily. "But you let me know as soon as you've got everything you need."

"Naturally," Skulduggery nodded.

"Okay, good, just so we're on the same page."

"Always," Skulduggery said, a rare touch of sincerity in his voice before he turned, opened the interrogation and stepped inside. Valkyrie found herself leading the way to the room next door, it was a smaller room and one which Valkyrie rarely entered. This was where the other agents sat and watched as she and Skulduggery conducted interviews, took statements and generally did all the work behind the scenes that made their jobs that bit easier. Today there were no agents, just Valkyrie, Ghastly and his constant Cleaver escort. Screens showed the room next door, the Skeleton Detective and his prisoners. It took a Valkyrie a long moment to be able to drag her eyes from her best friend to the man before him.

He looked exactly like he had in the dream and at the same completely different. His face was gaunt, his hair was long and a scratchy stubble had started to grow on jaw and cheeks. Yet the glasses were the same, so was the hooked nose and dark eyes. Gone was the civilised façade that Valkyrie had seen, it was like he'd been stripped bare of any pretences and this was truth that lay beneath.

"Who is he?" Valkyrie asked, she hadn't wanted to in the car but now that she was faced with him she couldn't help herself.

"Dr Charles Laszlo," Ghastly answered as Valkyrie sunk into the desk chair that sat before the desk laden with screen and speakers. _So at least that much was true,_ Valkyrie thought. "Originally his name was Alek Suberov. He was born in 1853 in Ukraine, trained as a doctor there in the mortal world, ran a practice and led a normal life."

"What changed?"

"Magic," Ghastly said sadly. Skulduggery had told Valkyrie once that Ghastly would live a mortal life if he could, Valkyrie had never truly believed him until that point. Some part of her had always thought that the wonder of magic would always be able to tempt him away from the boring mortal world, but the sympathy in his voice left that delusion shattered forever. Just one more to add to the pile. "He discovered his powers pretty late in life, it happens sometimes. One day he was helping his patients, the next he could hear their thoughts. Everyone thought he was going crazy, some of his colleagues tried to lock him away and asylums weren't what they are today. So he ran, left his home, his wife, changed his name and tried to find his place in a world that couldn't understand him."

"So he's been alone all this time?"

"Every time he tried to settle down and start a new life the mortals would figure out something was wrong," Ghastly explained, "they didn't assume it was magic, of course, but he could never live a normal life again. He can't shut it off. He doesn't know how and no-one has ever taught him. He tried to teach himself and that's when we think he learned how to control people."

"Let me guess, he found us and wants to punish sorcerers for magic making his life crap or something?" Valkyrie asked darkly, glowering at the figure shackled to the table.

"We don't know," Ghastly answered, "he's been on his own for the last hundred years on and off, who can tell what he's thinking."

"Doesn't give him the right to be psycho," Valkyrie bit back angrily.

"I never said it did," Ghastly pointed out in that same calming tone he always used.

"No, but you feel sorry for him," Valkyrie snapped accusingly, it wasn't really a question. She didn't even need to look at him to know that it was plastered all over his face. They had been friends for long enough.

"A hundred years is a long time, Valkyrie. He knew no-one, constantly felt rejected and the only reason no sorcerer could take advantage of his powers was because he changed his name to escape his past."

"Just because you understand him doesn't mean he's good guy," Valkyrie countered. Any other day she'd have let this slide, but her temper was snapped and her patience had long since evaporated. "What he did to me was sick. So his life sucked, so what? We all have bad days."

"He didn't have the right to do what he did," Ghastly said, trying to soothe Valkyrie as she reached for the volume control on the speakers.

"No, he didn't," Valkyrie agreed angrily. She knew why it was getting to her, why she had bitten Ghastly's head off like that. Darquesse. One day she was going to be like that, the ending to a bad day or a bad few years. She would be the monster, just like Laszlo. Where Ghastly saw himself, Valkyrie saw what she was going to become and it made her feel sick as dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She shook herself, she couldn't think about that now. Darquesse wasn't the problem, not yet anyway.

She hit the button that unmuted the sound and settled back in her chair as Skulduggery spoke on the other side of the wall.

"What's it like?" He asked, his tone casual as if he was just talking to a neighbour or a stranger in the street. Valkyrie frowned, she'd been expecting anger, maybe some rage, even a dash of annoyance would've been nice. Yet there he was, just chatting away. What the hell was he doing? "Being able to read people's thoughts? I bet it gets a bit crowded in there."

"You don't care," Laszlo ground out, his voice raw and bitter as he glowered at Skulduggery from under his lank fringe.

"No, I don't," Skulduggery admitted. "I just thought I'd make polite conversation, put you at your ease. Well, as much at your ease as you can get when you're shackled to a table. I hope they're not chaffing too much, they do that you know. You'd be surprised how little anyone complains."

"You talk too much," Laszlo noted sourly.

"So I've been told," Skulduggery agreed calmly. "But I'm being sincere, I really am. If they're chaffing we could loosen them up, maybe get you some padding."

"No, you're not."

"And how do you know that? I could be absolutely serious for all you know." Skulduggery said as he took his seat opposite his prisoner. "Of course, I'm not. I don't give a damn if you're comfortable. If anything, I hope you're not. But what I am enjoying is the fact you can't tell that I'm lying by reading my mind. You've not been able to since we got here, have you?"

Laszlo said nothing, biting as his lip and glowering at Skulduggery. It was all the answer he needed.

"I thought not," Skulduggery nodded. Valkyrie smirked, without realising Laszlo had answered the question that Skulduggery had left unasked: whether or not he was fully in control of his magic. Some people were immune to shackles, he could have been one of them. It would've explained a lot, but he wasn't.

"You see, what puzzles me is how we were able to bind your mind reading ability and yet Valkyrie is still trapped in whatever dark little place you put her in. It doesn't make any sense to me, if we've bound you here then surely we've bound you there. Unless, of course, that's not how it works."

"You know nothing," Laszlo spat, "you're a little man, just like all of them, you do not understand. You'll never understand."

He sounded sullen and petty, like a teenager. A hundred year old teenager who'd lost his family and everything he'd ever worked for and who blamed the wider world for the crap hand that life had dealt him.

"Yes, I'm sure you've had to deal with that a lot. Misunderstanding, prejudice, persecution, etcetera, etcetera." Skulduggery listed off, sounding bored. "This is the part where I'd usually pretend to care, try and get on your side to make you feel like you've got a friend and then you'd open up to me. We might laugh, you'd realise I'm amazing and then tell me all about your insidious plots. It's a cliché, I know, but it works. Only that's never going to happen. You're putting my partner through a living hell, one which, for your sake, I hope she returns from. So I'm going to be honest with you, the truth is this: I don't care. You're nothing special and you're not the first person to suffer at the hand of other people's ignorance."

"Then what is then plan?" Laszlo asked, a smirk creasing his pale face. "I have told you before, I'm not going to let her out."

"Yes, but that was when we thought you were in control." Skulduggery said, he leant forwards, elbows coming to rest on the tables and his gloved fingers interlacing. "Now, I know you're not. You've barely scratched the surface with your power, you don't know what you're doing."

"That's what you think," Laszlo retorted, he probably thought he sounded confident and cocksure, but even from behind the screens Valkyrie could see that he was bluffing. No wonder he kept getting found out, he was a terrible liar.

"No, it's what I know." Skulduggery corrected. "You probably have no idea what you even put Valkyrie through. Her imagination did most of the work I'm assuming?" When Laszlo didn't answer Skulduggery continued, "Valkyrie is awake, we got her out a few hours ago."

Valkyrie took that as her cue and got to her feet as she heard Laszlo splutter and protest while Skulduggery just sat there and waited. She was going to enjoy this. The walk to the door of the interrogation room wasn't a long one, but it was enough for Valkyrie zip up her jacket and pull on a passive, calm face. She couldn't let him see that he'd gotten to her, even a hint of weakness and he'd won. She took a final deep, steadying breath as she felt the cool metal of the door handle press against the soft of her palm and then, when she was ready, she turned it and opened the door.

"See for yourself," Skulduggery said gesturing to the door as Valkyrie entered.

Laszlo turned as best as he could with his hands cuffed to the table and, Valkyrie noticed for the first time, his ankles shackled to the legs of the chair. His neck craned and his glasses were pushed further up his nose as he tried to look at her. She waited, thrust her hands in her pockets, making him work for it and then she stepped into his eye line.

"Cat got your tongue?" Valkyrie asked, smirking when he gawked at her.

"You… you can't be here." Laszlo breathed, whatever grasp of control he had had on the situation vanishing as the girl he thought was under his control stood before him safe and sound.

"Sorry to disappoint," Valkyrie shrugged before walking around to join Skulduggery. She did her best to look perfectly normal like nothing had happened, but as she came to rest in front of Laszlo she could feel her heart racing and her stomach tighten. Little did he know that he had been the face of her nightmares, the doctor she had trusted and ultimately, her torturer.

"No, you don't understand, no-one has ever woken up before."

"Look at that, I'm a record breaker," Valkyrie said, keeping her smirk in place.

"I'm sure your parents would be so proud," Skulduggery commented dryly.

"They already know they have the perfect daughter, they don't need more proof," Valkyrie replied, injecting as much confidence into her words as she could.

"Implying that you've proven it before," Skulduggery noted, "I find that hard to believe."

"Shut up."

"Your wit continues to astound me," Skulduggery said sarcasm dripping from his words.

"You said I was the first," Valkyrie pushed on, rolling her eyes at Skulduggery who was too busy enjoying annoying Laszlo to continue to the questioning. "How many more were there?"

"Five," Laszlo answered, his voice quiet. "Not including you."

"Why did you do it?" Skulduggery asked, re-joining the serious part of the conversation once more.

"I didn't mean to, not at first," Laszlo said, his eyes dropping and falling to the table. "It was an accident, I was trying to stop hearing her thoughts. I never wanted to hurt her. When she started screaming, I could hear her, she was stuck in a nightmare. I wanted to get her out, but there was nothing I could do."

"What about the others?" Valkyrie probed.

"I needed test subjects," Laszlo answered, as if it was obvious.

"And that's all they were to you?" Valkyrie said, dumbfounded. "That's all _we_ were, 'test subjects'? They were people with lives and families and people who cared about them. Doesn't that matter to you?"

"I had to fix myself," Laszlo protested, his jaw clenched and eyes back on Valkyrie, all shame banished from them. The first may have been an accident, the woman, whoever she was, had been important to him. Maybe she was someone he loved, maybe that was why he wanted to stop hearing her every thought and private moment, respect – then again, maybe it wasn't. In that moment, Valkyrie didn't care, all she could think about were the people who came after, the people like her. Test subjects. Nothing but laboratory mice in his little quest for self-improvement.

"You're insane," Valkyrie breathed. "You're actually insane, you know that? People aren't just things you can use and then toss away when you're done."

"They were mortals," Laszlo said, "their lives are short and insignificant. I didn't realise until I became one of you but to live as a mortal is to live in a second, a snap shot of time. They wither and fade while we continue to stand the test of time. Generations have lived and died in my lifetime, I have watched as they persist in tearing themselves apart. War after war, a constant cycle of bloodshed that is never going to end. They are inconsequential, their lives bear little meaning, just like the people I chose to test my power on. Alan and Sandra were orphans, they have no family to miss them and worked menial jobs. Their lives did not matter, just like the others."

"Of course they mattered!" Valkyrie shouted. All his talk about Skulduggery not understanding him suddenly was thrown in a new light. It wasn't because he'd been judged or shunned, it was because he thought he was above the mortals while Skulduggery did not.

"No, they don't." Laszlo said flatly. He couldn't be reasoned with, all that time alone or trapped listening to other people's thoughts had warped his brain. She might as well be trying to talk with moose for all the good it was doing her. She'd met people like him before, Valkyrie could see the passion in his dark eyes and the constant belief that he was right. There was no talking someone out of that, and even if there was, she wouldn't waste the energy. "Nobody will miss them, the world will continue to turn as it always will. They were barely a footprint on the road we all travel."

"What about Valkyrie?" Skulduggery asked. "She wasn't a mortal, according to you, therefore, she matters. You lured her into that alley for a reason. Why?"

"You were going to try to stop me, sooner or later." Laszlo replied, "and I wasn't sure if my magic would work on you."

"So you targeted Valkyrie as a way to try and get us to stop, or at least be distracted long enough for you to escape the country."

"How'd that work out for you?" Valkyrie interjected.

"Evidently not as I had planned," Laszlo responded, lifting his arms slightly so as the chain that bound his wrists shook in the air. "But at least now I am free. So it seems that it all worked out in the end."

It took all Valkyrie not to launch across the table and smack him in his smug face, but she couldn't take this anymore. She'd thought maybe her attack had been because she'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time or some weird, twisted assault against magic. She'd never imagined it would be something like this. All these had died and for what? A sociopath's attempts at coping with a magic he didn't understand. If he'd just gone to a Sanctuary they might have helped him, been able to teach him how to control his magic but he'd just been a mortal, alone and unaware of the secret community of mages and sorcerers until it was too late. Five people had died because of him, for nothing. Nobody else was going to die though. They'd stopped him. So why did she feel like this? Like she was the one that had lost.

She felt herself moving, she wasn't aware of telling her legs to take her out of the room but Valkyrie couldn't bear to look at him anymore, let alone share the air that gave him life. The next thing Valkyrie knew she was out of the door, Ghastly was there concern in his eyes and a frown on his face. The Cleavers didn't look any different than usual, but then again Valkyrie couldn't see past their helmets. For all she knew they could be blubbing their eyes out at the story they had just watched unfold, though somehow she doubted it. They were probably just stoic and resolute, like action heroes or Alfred from Batman.

She heard the door behind her open and Skulduggery step out.

"Take him to a holding cell," he said to the Cleavers, one of them obediently headed into the room. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just take me home."

"Of course," Skulduggery said and without a word to Ghastly or the other Cleaver he led Valkyrie down the corridor and out of the Sanctuary.


	5. Home at Last

Chapter Five: Home at Last

Valkyrie didn't say anything on the ride from Roarhaven to Haggard. There was nothing to say, the man that had torturered her was a sociopath and the only reason she had been forced to live a magic induced hell was because he didn't want to be caught. On the bright, if there was one, at least he didn't know about Darquesse. From what Skulduggery had said, and added in his attempts to get her talk on the way home, her dream had been stimulated mainly by her own imagination. It was why it had gone on for so long. Not that that helped settle Valkyrie's mood, it was just a tiny consolation to end a day she really wanted to be able to forget.

Skulduggery left with a promise to call the next morning and update her on what was happening, as well as insisting that she take a few days off to get her head back in the game. Usually Valkyrie would have argued but this time she agreed. All she wanted was to be with her folks and get everything back to normal. The dream had made her realise not only how easy it was to lose them, but also how much she needed them. As independent as she was Valkyrie had no idea what she'd do without them.

The reflection looked up from her bed as Valkyrie climbed through the window.

"You were gone a long time," it said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Valkyrie agreed as she threw herself into her chair and began kicking off her boots.

"Are you okay?"

It was just a social reflex, a question the reflection would ask to try and blend in and seem normal so Valkyrie didn't feel bad ignoring it. She just waved her hand, gesturing towards the mirror. It had no feelings to hurt after all and Valkyrie was starting to get sick of concern and pity. She just wanted to be treated like she normally was, not like a piece of fragile china which could shatter at any moment. That wasn't who Valkyrie Cain was.

The reflection slipped out of it's clothes, through the mirror and waited while Valkyrie got changed, making sure to wear everything the reflection had dumped on her bed before tapping the surface of the mirror and letting the memories that weren't really her own wash over her. They shuffled through her mind, slotting themselves into place. Valkyrie stood there for a moment, playing them back and watching through the reflections eyes the days that she had missed. It just like watching a movie, the only difference was that a movie didn't make Valkyrie feel guilty for leading a double life and lying to the very people that loved her most in the world. It was just another price to pay. She'd come to realise that a long time ago, but that didn't make it any easier.

After a few practice smiles and quick brush of her hair to make sure that she looked normal and not like a walking husk of her former self, Valkyrie headed downstairs. They were there, just like they always were. Darkness had long since fallen and Alice had been put to bed. Her father say on the sofa, his feet propped on a cushion which sat on the coffee table as he watched TV and munched on a late night snack of cheese on toast. Her mother was beside him, not really paying attention to the high-action drama on their screen. Instead she had her head buried in a book, but she was still curled up against her husband, a content smile on her face. Valkyrie didn't say anything for a moment, happy to watch the scene unfold before her. This was a life she was never going to have, had never wanted to have. She liked adventure, excitement and magic. A few days of this and Valkyrie knew she would be bored, but that didn't stop the pang of jealousy and guilt which shot through her.

"Hey guys," Valkyrie said, forcing a smile onto her face as she plonked herself down onto the empty chair next to the sofa.

"Steph, I thought you were doing your homework?" Her mother asked, looking up over her book.

"Am I not allowed to spend time with the two most amazing parents in the world?" Valkyrie countered, a seed of truth in her words, not that they knew that.

"It that bad, huh?" Her father commented, spraying toast everywhere as he did so.

"Kinda, yeah," Valkyrie shrugged, laughing a little as her mother began wiping down her father's jumper as if he was a gigantic baby. "Have we got any food left?"

"I think your father ate the last of the bread," Valkyrie's mother answered. "But I think we have some crisps somewhere."

"It was looking at me funny," her father added, "I could telling it was plotting to overthrow the kitchen. A few more weeks and we'd have had an uprising on our hands."

"You're mispronouncing mould," her mother commented, rolling her eyes at her husband's antics.

"I prefer to think of it as a sign of the bread's true, traitorous colours," Valkyrie's father went on, taking a huge bite out of his late night snack. "It asked for trial by combat. I think I'm winning."

"You've been watching way too much Game of Thrones," Valkyrie muttered.

"There's no such thing as too much."

"You've seen it like six times," Valkyrie pointed out before getting to her feet and heading for the kitchen. She was only just beginning to notice just how hungry she was. Her thoughts had been too caught up with everything else that had been going on, but now that she was starting to relax her stomach had started to protest about the lack of food.

"It's more than that," her mother said as she made her way across the living room and joined her daughter in the kitchen. She waited a moment, shutting the door and blocking out the sound of fighting and shouting that emanated from the TV. "You okay, Steph?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just hungry," Valkyrie answered, silently wishing that people would stop asking if she was okay. Was it really that obvious that she wasn't?

"Is school getting you down?" Her mother probed as Valkyrie searched the cupboards for something other than a tin of beans. "Because you can tell me if something's wrong, sweetheart."

"I'm fine, mum, promise."

"So long as you're sure," Valkyrie's mother said with a sad sort of smile.

"I'm fine," Valkyrie repeated, seizing a packet of her second favourite type of crisp and pulling it from the cupboard. "What's brought this on?"

"Nothing, it's just… You've been a bit withdrawn lately, I know it's part of growing up but you've spending a lot of time in your room and your father and I, we're just a little bit worried about you."

The reflection had been spending a lot of time in her room, Valkyrie internally corrected trying to ignore the guilt that plagued her heart as she made a show of opening her crisps so as she didn't have to look at her mother. For all its improvements and progress it was still a thing, a thing which would hide when it had to so as not to blow its cover. The more time Valkyrie spent out of the house, the more it was going to struggle to adapt. She'd been spending more and more time away, in fact, Valkyrie couldn't really remember the last she had been home for more than an evening. Of course they were going to notice.

"I'm good, really, mum, it's just getting a bit serious, exams and stuff." It wasn't really true, but it made sense. Everyone in her year was stressing out, panicking as teachers mounted the pressure on their students. The reflection wasn't worried, it was a thing with perfect recall and knew just what Valkyrie was predicted and as such would match those expectations. But a normal girl would be, so that was the lie Valkyrie went with. It was better than the truth.

"Well, we're here if you need us." Her mother smiled, "I'm always happy to help, and I know your father might not look like he does but he actually has a brain up there somewhere."

"Could've fooled me," Valkyrie smirked.

"My point is, we'll be always be here for you."

"I know," Valkyrie said, trying her best to hide the sadness from her voice as she did so. "Tell you what, why don't we put film on? Chill as a family?"

"You just want to avoid your homework," Valkyrie's mother said knowingly.

"I'll let you pick the film," Valkyrie offered knowing the answer.

"Deal."

It took a few minutes to get Valkyrie's father to agree to the plan, but after a few mock protests and some pretend sulking they settled down to the original _Back to the Future._ Valkyrie would never have pegged that to be her mother's favourite, she usually hated sci-fi and forced her husband to watch things like _Star Trek_ in private. But it wasn't the film that her mother loved, not really, it was the memory attached to it. It was the first film her and Valkyrie's father had watched together.

After the film, some more chatting and her father falling asleep more times than Valkyrie could count, Valkyrie bid her parents goodnight and headed up to her room. She changed into her Ireland football jersey, brushed her teeth and threw herself onto her bed. It was too warm for covers. The rain that had soaked her the previous night had gone, summer was starting to take hold of its precious five days in Ireland.

Valkyrie forced herself to close her eyes and try to sleep, it wasn't that she was too warm or that she didn't need to sleep, they weren't the problems. It was the fact that the last time her head had met this pillow she had been dragged into a nightmare, one which she didn't ever want to return to. But as the hours dragged on and the night deepened could feel her eyes naturally begin to droop, a few yawns escaped her lips and then finally came the welcome embrace of sleep.

" _She's stabilising," a female said, the woman sounded panicky and nervous._

" _How did this even happen?" a man this time, angrier than the woman._

" _She was under your care," Valkyrie knew that voice, Laszlo. Dr Laszlo. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but she couldn't move. Everything was numb. She felt distant, like she was standing outside of the room, looking in. "This would never have happened if you'd been more vigilant!"_

" _Me? You're the one who left her pills in here! You tell her that her little freaky world isn't real and wonder why next minute she's taking 'em like tic-tacs?"_

" _That's enough! Nurse, get this man out of here." Laszlo snapped. There was the sounds of muffled protests and then the slamming of a door. "How long until she wakes up?"_

" _I don't know," the woman answered, that same fear still present. "Do you think she relapsed, doctor?"_

" _It's one explanation, the overdose might have been a way for her to permanently sever whatever tenuous grasp she had reality. We'll know more when she wakes up." He paused, and then added, "if she wakes up. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to talk to Dr Tanenbaum."_

 _There was the sound of footsteps, a door swinging open and closing and then nothing but hard silence._

 _oOo_

Valkyrie woke up with a scream, sweat drenched her body, she tried to get up but the sheets had tangled themselves around her in her sleep and then just as she thought she had escaped them she ran out of bed and slammed hard into the floor. Tearing herself out of the sheet Valkyrie scrambled for her phone, she didn't care that her parents might hear her, she had to talk to him. She fumbled, cursed and then dialled. Nothing but dial tone greeted her as Valkyrie pressed the cool screen of the phone to her ear. Her heart was racing, blood pumping and her head was spinning.

"Valkyrie? Are you alright?" Skulduggery asked quickly as soon as he picked up the phone.

"No,it happened again! I was there again! You said it wasn't real, you promised!"

"Valkyrie, calm down, it was just a nightmare. Or it could have been some residual effects of Laszlo's magic, don't worry. You're going to be fine, just breathe. I'll have Cassandra come round in the morning, we'll sort this out. Together."

"Yeah, okay, cool. I just, sorry, I'm freaking out a bit."

"Would you like me to come over?"

"No," Valkyrie answered quickly, but then said, "yes, I don't know."

Suddenly there was a knocking at her door and she heard her dad's voice, "Steph, are you okay?"

"I've got to go," Valkyrie told Skulduggery before ending the call and clambering to her feet. She hurried to the door, doing her best to not look like she was petrified or scared out of her mind. Somehow she doubted her chances of success at either, but she yanked the door open anyway.

"Everything okay, Steph? We heard screaming," her father's words were hurried and filled with worry.

"Yeah, just a nightmare," Valkyrie shrugged, trying to look suitably embarrassed without betraying her true feelings. But that's all it had been, a bad dream. "Sorry, I'm fine. You should go back to sleep."

"I don't mind if -"

"No, it's okay," Valkyrie said quickly, cutting across him before he could say it. It wasn't that she didn't want his help, it wasn't that she couldn't accept it. If she did then she wasn't sure what secrets would come tumbling out as she tried to explain it all. "Go back to bed. Sorry if I woke you guys up."

"That's alright, Alice has been doing her best to make sure neither your mother or I get any sleep, I think you can be forgiven this once." As if on cue there was a sound of muffled crying from the room at the end of the hall. "I swear it's like she knows." Valkyrie's father sighed, but a good-natured smile was already betraying him. "Night Steph. You know where we are if you need us."

"Thanks dad."

"Anytime," her father said, flashing her a tired grin before turning and trudging down the hall. Valkyrie shut the door quickly, making sure not to let it slam so as not to disturb her mother further. Next door she could hear her father cooing and muttering sweet words to her crying sister in an attempt to get the youngest Edgely to calm down.

"It's just a dream," Valkyrie muttered, closing her eyes and trying to calm her own hammering heart. "Just a dream. It's not real."

That's all it was, a nightmare, residual magic playing with her brain, nothing more. Cassandra could've missed something, after all this wasn't something any of them had ever seen before. Or maybe she was just remembering, her mind playing tricks on her, just like it had after Serpine had died and her dreams had been a constant playback of all the horrors she'd seen. It was just a dream.

Wasn't it?

The End

* * *

 **AN: So that's the end of this story, just a quick note, I've left it deliberately open about whether or not Valkyrie made the right choice or not and I'm interested to see what you guys think. I hope you all liked it, I've personally loved writing this story and hope that you all enjoyed at it just as much. Feel free to leave a review or if you've got any questions always happy to answer any PM's.**


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